Tag: postaday

I’ve thanked you guys a lot before and I continue do so for having loved and visited my sacred home – my blog!

Ever since I started writing here, in this space, I’ve never once thanked my blog itself! The deep connection I have with this place is bearing fruits now. The hundreds of posts – some in context and some out of it, some inebriated or some not so, some happy or some morose, some that intrigued me as well – are my treasure of knowledge and experiences I could share and those that I vow to continue to share with you, my ever so lovely audience!

I write this post, not because I’m nostalgic, but because I’m starting to realize that I’ve never thanked myself enough – to have put my mind, my soul and this body in such precarious situations, to have never thanked them and that the only place that carries most of what I’ve said and done is this blog, making it all the more crucial that I thank this space itself!

During the past few months, since I’ve started to connect to a special place within me, I’ve often come back to this haven to seek answers. I wonder now how true some of the observations still are? And how the hell did I know all that way back then i.e. 3 years ago? And most importantly, how the hell did I dare forget them? Well I know the answer to the last question, because I may have been drunk as hell… probably… well, just kidding!

I am almost on the verge of starting again, to write, to revel in the chatter that my dear readers indulge in, and the love I get for getting creative in my own silly ways. But there are still final hurdles to cross and one of them is – laziness. This just has to go. I have had it with this bugger for it sucks the zest out from my life. I forgot the only reason I started to write was to let myself out, not to please people or give in to their taste but create my own, no matter how bitter it may taste.

I’ve also realized that I have punished myself voluntarily for every lapse in schedule to deliver on my work of art. It distracts me, it hurts me, it handicaps my thinking and morale. I’ve had enough of this lackadaisical attitude and it’s time that I pull my socks up again. My journey to self-discovery had started with this blog. It served its purpose dutifully and honestly but I’ve not been honest to it. And it’s time now to reciprocate all that this place has given me.

There’s no getting out of this promise and nothing must deter me. It’s time to shape up!

Like this:

The way I am, I prefer to consider that everyone is struggling and are unhappy in their own right. They got lemons and failed to make lemonade out of it, just like I failed on umpteen occasions. Now here’s why I do that:

This way I never mean to do any harm to another human being, at least knowingly. And still there were times when I was made a complete jerk off. My home has often been a shelter for some people who’ve fooled me into believing in their plight. It’s only later when I’ve had time and space to explore their side that I’ve come to know how foolish I really was. But I don’t throw them out, just try and resolve their concerns with me, if any. When they find out, that I know about their truth, they automatically leave out of guilt.

Even then, I believe, till the damage can be repaired I won’t mind sheltering people for I have, in my own right, done a good deed. I also feel this is one way to live stress free, by taking satisfaction in the fact that you’ve done a someone some good and forgetting about it, than pulling the heartache of the betrayal along in life, which eventually is a baggage not worth of our time and energy.

I can’t really recall if what I’m going to talk about was my summer vacation or the start of long Dussehra holidays in October.

What I remember clearly though, is the sweltering heat, the yellow iron gate guarding our yard, my brother who had playfully climbed on top of the gate while me and my mum stood by the front door watching him play.

Now let me describe that yellow gate – it brought a unironed symphony to our home. It was a pale yellow, sturdy, 2-flanked metal structure that opened directly out to the beauty of the world. When it opened, the hinges creaked in a staccato rhythm. The 2 flanks hinged on iron rails on both sides, upholding the fence on either side. Looking from where I and my mom were seeing it, the left flank of the gate was lower than the right, leaning in from the top edge where they met (or should’ve met). Which meant that when the gate was shut using the latch on the top, it left ample gap at the bottom for stray dogs to wander in and out of our lawn, absolutely unhindered, an opportunity not many dogs missed considering the ginormous mango tree in our yard for the shade. Not that they really needed a gap, for the gate had rectangles cut out inside it, ones that made the gate, a practical sham!

Why am I talking about the gate? It’s this gate that I often dream about. One that opens to someplace unknown. Having yet to feel and cross it, the gate seems like it’s built of grey smoke only to fool my eyes. The fear of everything covered in orange haze/smoke on the other side, numbs my legs like I’m magically flying. When I look around, I find myself on an abandoned railway platform. The trains chugging pass fast and in huge numbers, watched only by a pair of eyes waiting for a trigger, but nothing happens. Nothing ever happens!

I often wonder what the dream means? Am I scared of abandoned railway stations? Am I scared of orange smoke? Do I love my legs so much that I fear for my life having no sensations in them?

Have you discussed ‘Beautiful‘ with people? I haven’t and I don’t know what beautiful is. No one taught me what beautiful is and I believe no one can. For what’s beautiful for a gazillion, may not be for me and it depends on my mood.

I am not untouched by nature or beautiful people and I’ve seen beauty in few of the rawest and most memorable forms but sometimes I don’t stand even by my word about someone or something being beautiful, leave alone others. Ergo, beauty is subjective to opinions and can never be clearly defined.

What’s beautiful though is this song –

What’s beautiful about the song? The voice and the picture it paints, the strings brush up the picture and the bass fills the colors. So true and clear, here’s what I see:

A girl enters a train with her beau brushing by our guy, revitalizing his senses already dead from the men rubbing him and their smell while he stands by the door. A few minutes later when a jerk from the sudden brakes makes the girl turn around when our guy lays his first sight on her face, and he simply melts, and the song ensues.

And I agree to all its versions. It stands true for everything we touch or feel. And as the prompt is about information, I’ll talk about information and how it depreciates all our prior understanding of the topic. And this happens around me all the time. While it’s paramount to understand every aspect of everything that we deal with, over-indulging invariably reduces its charm and often times, its enigma. It’s no longer fun to deal with or indulge in, rather an already boring and mundane task.

But then, some people are built that way. They love discussing and to such an extent that they’ll discuss, till the rubber comes off the tyres, about things that really don’t even blow air on them. They believe in the saying – “All Information is Useful”! Think about the chatter that these morons can make, scares the crap out of me… TRUST ME!

Now think about the pitiable souls (Yours Truly, in this case) that have to hear their discussions day in and day out, about such things. Here’s an example:

Think about discussing properties all day long or stock markets. Both of them deal with your money directly, money that I don’t have and yet have to hear about. I’m buying so-and-so-stock or how about the property on the east wing of a god-forsaken-piece-of-land-that-may-someday-spew-gold!

Trust me, my world revolves around certainty. If it isn’t certain, my interest drops off a cliff. And think about the 100 million worth of properties or 10 million worth of stocks that I don’t have and may never have, and yet have to hear about all day long like senseless crows cawing in my ears. I just can’t care lesser for them.

So please, spare me of the information I don’t need. When my time comes and it definitely will, I may seek you for advice but till then, JUST BACK OFF and leave my ears alone!

It’s become a regular occurrence now. My office installed a set of XBOX 360 and our team is usually the first one to hit it right after lunch. So there we’re sitting having a nice little FIFA 14 session when someone who’s just finished his lunch comes in and asks for a remote. Well HELLOOOO!! Everyone who’s still playing just keeps looking at the screen like the new guy will somehow magically find a playing remote and the other person still has his hands held out like we owe him to let him play.

You see I’m normally the giving type though and I hate situations that make me uncomfortable. So everytime this happens, it’s me that yields and hands over his remote to the new guy. Now all this is fine with me but mustn’t it be courtesy to at least let me know when you’re done playing?

Also there are morons who when not given a remote to play, turn off the console and return to the seat while others are still playing, holding their remotes in their hands, and made to look like complete jerks.

Hate is a strong word isn’t it? Especially when it comes to things you do or get done in a day. I hate none of what I do. I love my job. I like the people around me who work just like me. We have a fun time. I love my home or whatever of a ‘Home’ we’ve made it into. I love my dog. I love my wife and doing stuff for her.

The only thing that ails my soul and which I think is entirely a waste of my time (some may argue it isn’t) is driving to and fro my office. I feel that hour and a half is the least productive time in my day and the best period I can use for my writing if someone drives my vehicle. It isn’t fruitful to my health for all the smoke and dust that enters me, sticks to me, and makes me look like a villager on either end of the journeys. It doesn’t exercise a single muscle of my body and if anything raises my blood pressure.

And therefore, I want my robot to be a car that drives itself. I know they are still building on this technology and I may never be able to afford one for myself for it may never turn cheap and I know I’ll end up driving my car for my whole life whenever I own one, I want to nurture this dream. I know a lot of you may argue against me sleeping late and waking up late but because we’re talking solely about my comfort, this will be the pinnacle of the technology I wish to own.

The entire commute must get reduced to small phrases – “Driver, drive to my office” or “Driver, drive to my home”. Something voice activated and startable only using a password and it then does all the work itself while I commute hasslefree inside a clean cabin, undisturbed to write all I want. This way I’ll get a thousand other ideas to write about too by simply looking out of the window.

Some may argue, why not take a bus instead which will be cheaper? I say, I hate being around people. Crowd and bad smells simply tick me off. This when clearly, people are my best source of inspiration for thoughts and writing. Every living body feeds my brains with things and teaches me stuff that no books or internet can.

Run around and shout all you want. Raise your volume to decibel levels that make me shut my ears up. All lies are caught. Actually, the louder you are, the faster you run, the more things you throw around, the greater your lie is.

Lies just kill you – everyday. The more you keep your brain occupied with lies, lying, and remembering them, the lesser it thinks of better things. Keep lying and one day you lose all smile, all charm. Plus the constant fear of getting caught by the people who you may actually love and the wrath and indignation that go with all lies. A lie is never alone. A lie comes in groups and serious numbers. So weak is a lie, that it can’t survive without another. And this is only what you are doing to just yourself. Think of what you doing to others! Giving false hopes, false personification, false egos, and falser intelligence – you are not only destroying someones life but probably even robbing them of eventual pride in themselves of making better decisions and making them sulk in self-pity.

The power of truth though destroys all lies. Truth not only makes you a beautiful person, it makes your head clutter-free. You don’t have to remember all that you’ve said before because truth never changes. Its harder to swallow and get your head around but a simple realization and some acceptance turn all gloom to smiles. It makes you stronger. It lets you stand in the crowd and never lets you doubt your ability. You may fall in some eyes for being cruel and heartless but the confidence you impart to others is absolutely critical – both to you and them. Not only will people look up to you for advice and support but the respect you earn doing this is priceless.

Not that I haven’t ever lied to preach so much about truth but I’m changing and these are my first few steps to realize that self-respect is above all respects. This is my attempt to mend my reputation and gain further trust. I’m being brutal. I’m letting it all rip out from my heart always remembering that hiding the truth too is a form of lying and yet, not everyone needs to know everything about me. Sharing does relieve your heart but it also reduces the value of some of your cherished memories.

I dreaded/dodged this question for an awfully long time during my childhood. Well let me just admit it – I had weak bowels! I suffered disasters when none expected them and hence, the QUESTION. Those, who’ve borne witness to those grotesque scenes will admit that my primary school days weren’t very kind to me, and to them.

The issue as of today stands CORRECTED and hence, no qualms exist!!!

However relieving this embarrassing announcement is, announcing “IT” isn’t the primary aim of this post. But then, it also isn’t the aim of this blog, to find old classmates. In a rather surprising turn of events, Hina, my classmate from one of my primary schools, dropped me a warm message a few days ago and I couldn’t help but let you people in on it. I haven’t felt so thrilled in ages. You can find her comment in the link below –

She not only remembers the characters in the post but she also was kind enough to let me know, how great our school really was during those days of limited resources and how exactly she stumbled upon my blog. She was searching for the name of our school and that’s how she came across Views Splash. Not only does the search thing on Google work, it actually provides my blog in search results too – amazing, isn’t it!

What I do want to share with you today though, is how I cheated for the first time (that I can remember of). It was nearing evening when our school decided to hold games for all the classes the next day and a messenger announced it in every class in those email-less days. I can’t recall clearly but think I participated in a couple of events, one of which was the “Lemon Race”. After being told to bring a spoon for the race, I was explained how the race is run. The contestants hold their spoons in their mouth using the handle and place the lemon on the curve and run without dropping the lemon. Whoever crosses the finish line first, wins!

I went home and told my mother about it. We sat for dinner when I saw my brother suckle at his favorite spoon and an idea struck the dead neurons in my brain. The spoon you see was quite broad at the handle and had a rather deep oval.

“This will definitely suffice my need” and so I thought.

After the dinner, I picked the spoon, placed a lemon on it, pursed the handle of the spoon between my lips and ran. The lemon fell after a few steps. I ran again and the lemon fell.

“This isn’t working”.

I tried again to check my fault and it turned out, the oval was doing its job correctly at the front but the lemon jumped ship from the back i.e. the handle end. So I worked with the spoon a bit and lifted the oval of the spoon to roughly 165 degrees with the handle which further deepened the spoon and gave the lemon a resting arm. I ran again and this time the lemon didn’t fall off. Now I happily awaited the next day to check out my competition and see how everyone else was faring with their spoons and whether there were any tricks used like I had.

The next evening arrived and the event-o-clock struck. As I went around casually checking everyones spoons, I found they hadn’t tinkered the slightest with the spoon. I started feeling guilty the moment I hit the finishing line in the first place. I saw everyone and only one other boy had managed to finish with rest trying to figure out where their lemons scurried to.

I won a plate, with a rather uncomfortable conscience, and yet I was still proud, not for winning the competition though. I was proud for I tried something different with my brain, something I wasn’t really used to. Regarding the guilt, I guess I was so small then that, it was better I left the guilt at the finishing line.

2. The link between my confession in the first part of the post and the second is the friend who found me. A lot of school memories came flooding back and I shared two of those with you, the ones that really turned some of my early ways. It shows how embarrassment and guilt are some of the ingredients I’ve dealt with in my recipe called Life.

Oh man! It’s been so long when I last wrote, I can’t remember these settings too! Truthfully, there are multiple rivers flowing above my head and the crazy part is I don’t yet feel like drowning. Eyes shut tight, breathless as I am, I’m ready to wait forever to let the water ebb. The rivers aren’t disturbing me. They are deafening me – a sensation I’ve yearned for, for far too long.

As I pick up my keyboard, I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline and tingle running up and down my spine. I’m at the top of my senses. I see better with my eyes closed tight shut. I feel deprived. And there’s certain fun in chasing things that make you weak. A pleasure in guilt. But then there’s so much I want and I am confused. Which one first? Not that I have all means to get everything I’ve ever wanted, so being patient is my best option. See how things pan out and be ready for all that life has to offer me.

This is where I wake up, see things, feel stifled, and curl back into my bed. This is when life sucks when I’m brought back to my reality, a harsh harsh world. But I have my keyboard still firm in my hand and I feel relieved, for my escape to extraordinaire persists. A door remains. This is my setting for that illusionary perfect write-up.

Many people will give you many a advice about what speed to drive at in varying traffic conditions. Some say drive at a speed that suits your style and reflexes. Some say that always have patience and be slow, for there’s an accident always awaiting round the corner.

I say – drive at the speed of the traffic! Not necessarily tucked behind someones back but maintain some distance and keep a check that you aren’t getting left behind while also ensuring that you don’t start to lose your concentration if they increase their pace.

Most accidents on the road occur because you are either too slow or too fast. Too slow and you get bumped from behind by someone moving even at mediocre speeds. Too fast and you all know where they go! 🙂

What the aforesaid advice also does is, keeps your brain free from a lot of unnecessary clutter clouding your brain – “What will I have for lunch”, “Will I get home early and have sex tonight” or “I wonder if I want to see my boss’s face today” and bla bla! This way you are kept moderately busy while you can hog a chocolate when the traffic gets slower in city conditions whereas on the highways, better have chocolates at some restaurants! 😀

Today’s daily prompt gave me an idea to name this series of posts about how to go about driving in this mad rash world of hateful drivers – SAMROADING!

Do not overtake someone only to slow down right in front of him. This is the most annoying thing you do while driving! Not only are you wasting a lot of someones time, you are also garnering a lot of negative praises that are hitting your back and may also be true! 😉

Don’t we all want happy faces around us all the time? We are all selfish and in turn want to share the communicable cheerfulness to brighten our own days. Grumpy looking people often make for a bad viewing and… company. Happy people share jokes, make us laugh, spread positive energy with their infectious smiles, and even make some unhappy ones seriously jealous. But have you ever thought why some of us are permanently grumpy? Don’t you think that they too want to flex their cheek muscles at least once every day and smile for a change?

Yes, I am grumpy. I’m told by people that there are, at max, 4 expressions that they’ve seen me wearing. I haven’t practiced them in the mirror. I just look that way. It’s, in all practicality, impossible for me to stay happy and smile all the time, for from time to time, the realities of life keep dawning upon me. Earlier my problem was I wanted to keep everyone else happy. I failed! Then someone, a few years back, told me to start thinking about myself and now my problem is I want to keep myself happy. I’m not fairing any better here as well. My sofa needs cleaning. I need new mattresses. I need a new seating arrangement for my PC at home, new chair and table, more ergonomic. I need to get the engine on my bike repaired and blah blah! I know you don’t want to hear it but that’s precisely how grumpy people talk, BEAR IT!

So what exactly does grumpy mean?

– Bad-tempered and sulky.

– Crabbed; annoyed and irritable.

Synonym – Crotchety!

Just like the way happy and cheerful people have days when they are sad and depressed, we, the grumpy ones; have days when we are Happy and Cheerful for once. It’s difficult for us to leave our comfort zone. Deep down we love the way people hate us, despise us, want to hurt our face so bad, that we look even grumpier. But that’s where we WIN every day. For no one hits us. No one can do a shit about the way we look or behave. All that they can do is look away which is precisely what we want – no attention! It serves me better that I’m introvert as well.

There are several emotions, aren’t they? We sift through plethora of them every day – from happy to sad or angry or empathetic in matter of seconds. It’s these emotions that often drive our moods. These emotions change the way we perceive our world, see its colours, and hear its sound – basically change the way we feel it.

What I find most interesting though is how some emotions bring out the best in you while some doom you to obscurity. These emotions impact our will to achieve like no other person ever can. They impact our state of mind and the vibes coming from us in general. These emotions are quite distractingly very visible and are quite in-your-face.

My mother has one such emotion – anger. She cooks her best food when she is angry. Me and dad used to secretly wish for her to get upset and then cook (psst psst we still wish so). It used to start with an argument between them that I’ll never understand. They never made sense to me. They were so – worldly. Dealing with day-to-day issues that anyone of them could resolve in the blink of an eye. Anyways – food and anger! Yes, this is one complaint my mother always has when she is angry – she keeps saying she hates cooking. That how she hates every moment spent in the kitchen and yet, when she sees dad set the first foot across the threshold of its entrance to cook himself, she’ll jump in and prepare some of the tastiest drool-worthy delicacies, a human will ever taste – all in a fit of rage and knowledge that dad will ruin everything inside the kitchen. The chances of her screwing up the food then drastically reduce to zero. I think most women will relate to this feeling!

And that brings me to my question – what’s the emotion that brings out the best in you?

Mine is anger and I guess this is something my mother has unknowingly rubbed onto me. I think clearer when I’m angry. I say better when I’m angry. My focus dramatically increases even when I’m venting out my anger on something completely unrelated to the real problem. I invariably end up doing all the right things when my hands are shivering with angst. The only problem is – that’s also the only time I’m thinking just for myself and in those on-the-thread moments, I end up hurting a few people.

Okay, then what’s the emotion that brings out the worst from you?

Mine is happiness. Yes, that’s the reason I’m grumpy. Happiness brings out my concern for others which in today’s world, is quite unappreciated. People start to think that I’m interfering with their lives when in the first place they are the ones sitting in my home, sipping beers, and sharing the sorry state of their sorry ass world with me – the most unconcerned person on this planet. People for some reason don’t understand genuine sympathy or empathy now. They fail to acknowledge an unselfish concern for their well-being but who can blame them. We all get ditched so many times and in so many ways, we can’t even rely upon ourselves to trust others and find their true motives, rest aside the chances of us believing anyone else for our good.

I guess I’m searching for unadulterated love, for my love even for myself isn’t enough pure!

You know, there are things that we do over and over again for a considerable period of our life and then, someday we stop doing them, for whatever reasons. We never know if they were for good or bad, for they in their time never held any meaning. Then one day we stop doing them. All they give us are memories, some cherishable and some not so.

The one thing I’m doing ever since I learnt to control handles and balance, is ride. Ride, to and fro, carrying people at my back.

The 2-wheelers that I’ve used are –

1. BSA SLR – Bicycle.

2. Kinetic Luna Super Star – A bicycle with an engine, a clutch and accelerator.

4. You’ve all already met my 4th companion, Bajaj Pulsar 180CC – One of the oldest and proudest giants in the history of Bajaj sporting bikes in India. Without it, I’m lost.

During my schooling and engineering, my brother rode as my pillion. They were fun times. Nothing except the rides changed over the years. From bicycle to Luna to Shakti, that part of our life is one the longest case of the association between brothers and their rides. We rode for long hours and I don’t remember him, even once, asking me to let him ride. He was happy and content, at the back, watching the world and giving all sorts of running commentary, describing the surroundings. Watching girls, eateries, escaping seniors, riding in the rain – through love and through fight, those days will forever remain fresh.

There was one instance when while returning from our school, it was raining really hard. I decided to have some fun and starting riding through puddles of rainwater, which soaked all of his shoes from the inside. I kept doing it, when in a fit, he opened his water bottle and emptied it straight into my shoes, and all this 60 kmph. We laughed all the way to our home. One of the happiest memories I have with him.

We’ve had our share of accidents as well, when in all the occasions, he jumped off well before the fate hit us. He is thankfully smart in those situations when I’m not. Twice in those accidents, I hair-cracked my left shoulder. But they never deterred me

Then my ride changed to Pulsar and the speed at which I normally rode changed. I remember once, when he was in Bangalore, spending time on bench in his company, I used to drop him to his office. We used to take the ‘Nice’ road. It was one clean and zero traffic road, 16 kms in length. We reached 120 kmph one day. He simply closed his eyes and felt the speed while I just enjoyed the fastest that I had ever ridden, things passing by me in time smaller than the blink of an eye. I miss those moments.

Then came my wife, and so changed my speed. All she ever has said about my riding is – “You are the only one with whom I don’t try to balance the bike”. I clearly am her favorite!

Riding is also the time, I think about my life the most. I contemplate all serious issues, when I’m seated on my bike. I have my commentary running for all that while. “Government must ban all women and old drivers”, “Why the fuck does everyone change their lines at the last moments”, “What happened to them indicators” yada yada.

And then there’s my favorite song by Joe Satriani – “Ride” – that defines some philosophies of my life –

I read this prompt and the first question that popped in my tiny tired little brain at 11:45 pm in the night was – what do they mean by prized? And I slept over it.

The morning held further questions. Is it something you won as a prize but holds no meaning in your life for it’s a mere trophy? Is it something that makes you feel prized? Is it an object? Is it a feeling? Is it a perception? Is it a universal truth? Shouldn’t it hold value in your life?

So I decided to go through some prompts and I realized being ‘prized’ is a mere perception. The word makes us realize its virtue from both sides. The answer to all my questions above is a sweet and simple ‘YES’.

So what is my prized possession? Something I learned from a lot of mortifying years of anarchy in my thoughts. Freedom!

Freedom of space, speech, and foremost thoughts! I’m unafraid. Confusion and betrayal have given me the name of the only person to trust on this planet and since, I’m never leaving this planet before my death, that name is mine! Trust no one. And it is this trust, that gives my thinking a new and distinguished sense of freedom.

I crossed many a rivers to mentally reach where I am today. I started to write. There is nothing more that I can do to erase all self-doubt. And here is a song that truly expresses my freedom –

Taxes. We all pay taxes. Taxes are what enable a government to run a country smoothly. They tax us for everything – eating, drinking, driving, living and sometimes even thinking. We’re taxed for everything. Some pay it lump sum while some like me, pay it in pieces through the year so I’m not found begging on the streets for that particular month. For how much I earn, I pay 3 months salary as my tax, not to mention what I pay outside of it in Value Added Taxes and Service Taxes.

Well aforesaid taxes are what we pay to the government so we aren’t declared outcast or aliens on a land that we so deserve to live on, no matter which country or continent. We also pay a few other taxes of which one is the tax of expectation to our society. And we pay it day in and day out. This isn’t monetary – well in some forms it is as well!

Right from the day we’re born, or let’s go further back. Right from the time, parents either decide to have a child or that sperm gets loaded involuntarily, doomed is that little cellular structure. All those sperms that never made it, expected to perform, died trying – they paid their tax for being incompetent in death. But they were lucky for they had a safer death. The one that made it, frankly never got to do that small victory dance! 5 weeks later, after growing enough, it starts receiving medication and attention and is never left alone. Just enough space to survive and thrive in. Outside that tummy though, unknown to that little thing with no brain, are soaring expectations. Sons will make a doctor, daughters will need dowry.

We are and were all doomed to end up the way we have. Only a few escape the clutches of their parents, only to end up getting caught in the frenzy called OUTSIDE WORLD! The rest pay taxes like me. We’re salaried/businessmen/doctors/artists. That little brain of ours works day in and day out to earn a living. We’re shown the door for being ourselves. We’re influenced, lack originality, and life as I see around us, sucks beyond belief. Mine does. No other example is good enough.

Next we’re married, expected, not to find our true love, but to give the parents a child that can carry the family name. Some of us find that true love, while some unlucky ones get caught out at the hands of vicious wives and husbands. These other halves tend to have their own expectations that are levied without permission upon those super-burdened shoulders. They want your money, your social status, hold no interest in your parents, and love remains unheard of.

Every single moment of our life is built from expectations. Your own and others too. You want to do well all the time. Who wants failures, for failures are rejected. Expectation though means fear. We keep fearing for our destiny and forget to live our life, the only thing that’s in true sense perishable. I’ve done this for 30 years everyday and every single minute and find it extremely tough to pull out that magical moment from a work day, to pull out of this vicious loop that I’ve gotten into.

And so I write. I write to vent it all out. But watching all of those who wish to earn through writing, I am tempted everyday. I want to raise my expectations from my blog. I want to raise my expectations from a solitary talent called writing. I want to do this everyday and every minute. But am I good enough? I fear for my destiny. I fear the unknown. I fear that I may lose all that I possess. My possessions matter. They’re there from sheer hard work. Day in and day out of doing something I hate from the core of my heart. Nothing I do during my day makes any sense. There is no satisfaction.

I want to earn more money. I want to rise higher. I want to see the world. I want peace. I want no expectations. But how do I say it – I can never rid myself from temptations, for I’m human. I’ll fall and rise. And it’s my expectations from my life, that make me brave these everyday storms to remain standing tall and writing about them, talking about them, and sometimes even laughing about them.

The only way I see that I can escape expectations is to let go – let go off the people who hold us back. Let go off the material that binds us to temptation. I may attain peace, but then isn’t even peace an expectation? Isn’t peace taxed?

P.S. – This is the hardest prompt I’ve ever tried! I can really go on and on about it, like write series but it may get so depressing that you won’t read beyond the second half of the second edition itself.

Ever experienced polarity? No I’m not talking about polar diseases and all. I’m talking magnetism. Have you noticed how North and North repel each other? I know most of you would’ve. That’s what we are – parties and me! We go away from each other at a mere whiff.

What are parties? All that a party does for me is hand me a lemonade, and I’m always left picking out the lemons from it. I don’t like them and parties don’t like me either. Those who’ve seen me at one, say the parties may have been better without me. The max that I do is linger around in the corners, out of every eye, bobbing my head at the beats with pizza in my hand.

So I concluded few years ago that it’s better to party alone than with anyone else. So here’s the concept and it’s called “Lone Party”. I don’t know, how many of you have any such concept but this one really works for me. Here’s what I do –

I start to walk alone, headphones in my ears, to a place unknown that has awesome and my favorite music. Once I find one such place, I look to order some food that takes time in preparation. Meanwhile, I grab a coke in my hand and start bobbing my head to the beats/drums. It may also help if the place has some cricket showing as well. I’ll sit alone on a table for 4, top button loose, head laying on a head rest, and no pressure on my spine. The food may arrive and when it does,I take ages to finish it. This thing has to last long and I make sure to do it. All this, just makes my head unwind. That place, by the way, may as well be my home when I order a pizza.

It recharges me to no ends. I feel devoid of feelings and emotions when I return home and smiling then, is never an issue. That’s what parties are for right – hand you a smile?

Anyone else have some crazy party ideas that don’t involve anyone but you?

This list isn’t exhaustive and will never be. I can’t see my future and won’t imagine it too, for vivid dreams have a way of becoming stumbling blocks for happiness. But here are somethings that I want to do, to get my head straight –

1. Grab my first chance at a solitary holiday for a month or so. I need my time doing nothing, no contacts, no family, no communication, no gadgets. Just food, water, me and may be some strangers who deal in nothing but love.

2. I want to go soundless once. Listen to absolutely no sound, so I can listen to myself, for I want to clear the noises in my head, that have become quite a puzzle to solve over time.

3. This one is explicit and can’t be revealed here. (Thinking sex? Bingo!)

I know I’m disturbed. The entire last weekend has thrown me off gear. All my ideas have gone for toss. What made the matters worse was, how Daily Prompt changed and became rather unpredictable in nature. Now I don’t know what to expect from the daily prompt. I don’t know what kind of traction will my post receive. I started writing for Daily Prompts about 4 months back and received my best audience with this medium. I found some great friends, and I still keep finding them. Daily Prompts had become my tool to interact socially but not any more. Earlier I knew how many people will at least take a look at my post when I copy pasted the pingback links into my posts but not any more. Now I just put my post out there and wait for things to happen, like everything is out of my hands.

Frankly this sucks! Without traction, a person with a busy day like mine and such limited number of hours in a day and no access to WordPress during office hours, will lose motivation and that’s precisely what I am, unmotivated!

I need to find more avenues and extra hours to write those extra posts and try to always be on it, to meet a lot more of you, read a lot more of you and write a lot more during my free time. My Saturday nights earlier included just pizza’s and TV, but they must now also include writing for reading simply isn’t enough.

But I’ll receive all this as a positive change. I needed to start writing a lot more anyways – to improve my quality, vocabulary, grammar – and long consistent writing is the way to go. Just that the WordPress BS about how pingbacks are used for bumping the good posts and dumping the bad ones, isn’t acceptable. You really have to grow up and see the writers from a different perspective. We are people with lives apart from our work too.

In India, the average broadband speed is second lowest in the world. We are country with a pathetic telecom infrastructure, for our leaders are too engrossed in devouring tax payers money and filling their Swiss Bank accounts. Now to stay connected and create decent enough online content on our iPads and Tablets, it’s difficult and time-consuming. And then there’s work and the pay masters and wife and dogs to take care of.

Man! WordPress just made writing a lot tougher. I really had huge plans with Daily Prompts but I’ll have to chuck them till something better pops up. Till then, I’m going to spend my Saturday Nights writing and not partying!

This is the end of it though! I won’t crib about the changed Daily Prompt anymore and not let it be in my head and screw up my precious happiness.

Now think of your favorite fruit and ask yourself how do you like it? Fresh from the market, shining washed in water, off the hooks from a tree, cut in pieces so you don’t have to dig your teeth in, or a bit rotten? You see, a rotten fruit has it’s own unique taste. It no longer associates itself with the fresher version. It has run its miles and now sits in front of your eyes, dying for attention, waiting for the pain of your teeth digging in and the juices flowing out. This fruit is your rotten apple, for it makes you hide when you are eating one, trying to avoid other eyes gazing at you in wonder! But this is your secret, your love for things untouched and unthought of, your attempt at being different and unique in your own eyes.

Another question – will you ever share your half eaten fruit with someone else, who’s not really hungry or doesn’t really carry the same craving for that particular fruit?

Now try to think of this fruit as one of your darkest hidden fantasies. Thing you think people will definitely judge you at. Thing that you’re too scared to bring forth to the world. Just ask yourselves – what is it? How did you get it? Was it your past? Does it belong in your future in any of its forms?

I can make this post a prompt idea and people may go on and use it as a prompt idea and link back to my post. I’ll be thankful for that but this isn’t the idea of this post.

I have a fantasy. It’s dark. It’s merely wishful in the confines of my surroundings. It’s like growing apples in a desert. It won’t survive. I can’t share it with my world. They won’t understand. I know they don’t have enough brains to know, how things make me happy. For them, my satisfaction stands for my happiness, but ask me if they’ve ever seen me happy and I’ll tell you, none of them have ever seen me happy. Hell I think last and the only time even I felt happy was at my home in a specific place and position. I can’t think how they’ll understand how pain controls me.

That lingering ache you, the one that occurs after you first join a gym, keeps your spirits up, keeps you awakened and satisfied by your gains. The world that you enter when your eyes are covered, that light you see, that isn’t visible even in full blown sunshine. That light of freedom, of thoughtlessness, of irresponsibility, of carelessness, of disability, of your past, of your future, it keeps you in the present and makes you see it and feel it within every cell of your body. Those marks on your skin that are persistent, visible, and cause your body to tingle in excitement, so you close your eyes again and try to enliven the same dream over and over till nothing but a crash can remove that smile off your face.

I live for it. I dream of it. I linger in my present to smell and touch it. It’s difficult to make people understand it but I tried, for it’s not a task and I’m free to say what I want to. Had it been one, I certainly will excel, to raise hopes further and beyond what even I’ve fathomed. I’ll excel only if you tell me to, for its expectations and pressure that get the best of me. I want to eat every apple.

I’m writing this post, for this and much more is a burden I’ve carried since childhood. It has to come out. I don’t care if this is a public forum or I ever tried to make it one, but today and in this post, it’s just mine and I need to get it in writing as a reminder of who I am, what I must do and how should I do it. Life isn’t kind and every chance you waste, is an entire section burnt to ashes, never to be looked at again, like dog shit. It’ll linger in your head forever, for you’ve wasted it. Apples don’t matter, their taste does!

I want to love my life, embrace it and it requires me to turn into someone I’ve never seen or known and I’m afraid that it may bring out the worst from me. But trust me, touching darkness in various forms is what I love the most. You’ll elicit a plethora of emotions from me, if your topic touches an emotion darker than a normal person can look into. I want to look into and through you. I want to be you. It’s what defines me. I don’t want my life to look like yours, it eventually may do, but that isn’t the aim. For me, a journey of emotions is a must, else you carry nothing but an object in this abject world. Eat every apple, savor it and you may understand every other apple too without being judgemental. I’m becoming confident and you can’t take a chance with me anymore!

——******——-

Ranu made a very valid in that I think this post confused people about its intent! So I’ll turn this into a prompt idea.

The intent is for all of you to think about that one fantasy that you’re unable to live in your present because of some constraints. You may write a post about it and if you do, just thank me for the idea by linking back to this post. I’ll feature all the entries by next Monday in a separate post signifying your effort and time you gave to this thought! 😀

a degenerate neutron star; small and extremely dense; rotates very fast and emits regular pulses of polarized radiation

You know how most of us need a certain accessory to make us look that tad bit good. That bit that adds that spark which defines your spirit and your style. An unrelenting force, that keeps coming to you to give you more. It belongs to you. And that’s what eventually outshines the rest of the ‘dull’ you!

Well, standing alone I’d look like a bum and this is certainly not the first time I’m confessing to this fact on my blog! Shabby clothing and dirty shoes often define my appearance. I don’t care for my looks and it quite literally shows. Deep inside I think I am a stud when I’m more visibly, an elephant with a punctured ass.

It’s when I’m not walking though, that I’m seated on a beast. A beast that deserves the credit for carrying high hopes, dreams, responsibilities, weight of a man that nearly matches it’s own, and it does it EVERYDAY. Yes, that’s MY PULSAR.

Now how does my Pulsar justify the actual definition –

Degenerate –

Hell yeah! Just like me… gives me ideas as crazy as I am… goes as fast as it can and slow when it wants… just lets me handle it like the stallion ‘Spirit’ from the animated movie (nothing degenerate about the movie though)!

Small and extremely dense –

It’s pretty small compared to other larger monsters in the market all while it eagerly dishes the same pace as most will on any given day!

Rotates very fast and emits regular pulses of polarized radiation –

Told you its way damn fast for most to handle. Regarding the radiation part, I tend to compare it with the jealousy it instills in a thousand hearts every day – “Awhh hows that elephant riding so fast?” “What. Is. That. Mean. Machine!” “Hey mechanic, can I have the sound of my bike changed to how this one sounds (pointing to mine)”!

It has the same sense of direction as I do. It has love. It makes a bit of noise but only to disturb the inattentive. It honks angrily and loud like no other, just like I do when I’m angry! It’s sexy. It looks just one way and that’s forward. Without it, I’m lost!

And here’s to the shittiest part of the new and improved Daily Post, the best one that the brilliant techie minds of Daily Post on WordPress have thrown at us, THE PINGBACKS (GRID VERSION)that are in no way the pingbacks of the old –

P.S. – This is the (pardon me for I’m going to use the word again) shittiest and the ugliest (if shits weren’t that ugly for someone) part of the new and improved Daily Post. I want to ask everyone to please plead to Daily Post people to bring back the list of pingbacks links that were so easy to copy and paste than having to copy and paste each and every link from that GRID list that they’re apparently very proud of. I’ve left 2 comments in their comments section that they haven’t bothered to let past moderation, when they are nothing but a bit hard requests to bring back the pingback lists and keep the grid as well. I’m writing this as this is very de-motivating for some reasons that I’d rather not talk about.

A politician needs the ability to foretell what is going to happen tomorrow, next week, next month, and next year. And to have the ability afterwards to explain why it didn't happen - Sir Winston Churchill